


Complicated (why's it have to be so)

by fireflysglow_archivist



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-09
Updated: 2006-03-09
Packaged: 2019-04-29 09:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14469522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflysglow_archivist/pseuds/fireflysglow_archivist
Summary: Just a back massage, thought Mal, keeping his eyes frantically glued to her shoulders. Just a back -- Wait. Is she . purring?





	Complicated (why's it have to be so)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Firefly’s Glow](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Firefly%27s_Glow), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Firefly's Glow collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/fireflysglow/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** Mal  & Inara, first time.  
> I don't usually write canon pairings, but I was dared.

  
Author's notes: Mal & Inara, first time.  
I don't usually write canon pairings, but I was dared.   


* * *

Complicated (why's it have to be so)

## Complicated (why's it have to be so)

She was beautiful. Mal knew that, of course, knew it by how widely her services were called for, by how men stared when she walked next to him on the rare occasions that they were both off-ship for supplies, by the way her scent caught him off-guard when she occasionally joined the crew in the mess hall. However, he hadn't known it quite so strongly till now, walking into the shuttle Inara called home, and interrupting her in the middle of her bath. 

They were en route to Connaught Abbey -- a two-week trip by the co-ordinates that Mal and Wash had plotted to avoid the authorities and to take advantage of the wake of shipping vessels. There, they'd pick up Shepherd Book, their stash of fuel, and instructions for two new jobs. It would be a quiet trip -- a boring one, in truth, and when Inara had opted to join them instead of staying in the central planets, where customers made do with being on her waiting list, Mal knew something had gone wrong. He didn't know what led to the tension lines around her eyes or the set of her shoulders as she walked back into the main cargo bay after a week planet-side, but he knew he wanted to thump whoever had caused it. 

However, she'd smiled and hugged Kaylee, who ran to greet her, and ate dinner with them that night, and seemed cheerful, though quieter than normal. And that was almost well and good, so Mal hadn't tried to find out who needed a strong talking to about how to treat a business woman. Well, he hadn't tried that hard. Fine - he'd attempted to hack into the Registery of Companions and get her itinerary for the time she'd spent away, but that had been woefully unsuccessful. It had, in fact, automatically turned on the ship cam and damn near got him on a federal watch list, but no matter. Almost only counts, reflected Mal, with horseshoes and hand grenades. And now he knew to disconnect the cam every time he was being gorram foolish and attempting to muck around in official records. 

Or, he thought with a grin, reflecting on his luck, he'd just make sure that Wash's dinosaurs continued to conveniently obscure his face. 

It had been three days since they'd gone up into the black, and Inara had avoided him astutely. Every time he'd nonchalantly stepped into her shuttle, ignoring her dictate to knock, it had been empty. At dinner, she arrived after everyone had sat down and immediately drew Kaylee and Simon into long and intimate conversations. Her clothes were different too, he'd noticed - still regal, elegant and costly, but all with high necks, and looser than normal. Usually she made it a point to have the fabric emphasize her curves; now she moved like flowing water, her body only barely discernible when the fabric fell back around a hip or the high arch of her breasts. 

It was just as gorram head-spinning as the other, Mal reflected, but she was clearly trying for the opposite effect. But now - 

Hair caught on top of her head, Inara sat in a low, curved tub of perfumed water, one arm above her head. She was arching to wash her back between the shoulder blades with a sea sponge. Candles flickered on small shelves; recorded music -- something with flutes -- played softly. The room was full of steam and incense and -- Mal was sure he could smell it -- the faint faint smell of sex. 

And Inara hadn't heard him come in. She sat slightly on an angle, back mostly to him, eyes closed. He could see the willowy length of her back, the curve of her breast, a dizzying expanse of saffron skin -- 

And tense shoulders, he saw suddenly. Her neck looked stiff -- the muscles gripping a little more than they should. Mal quietly walked behind her and sank down on his knees. He took the sponge from her hand. Her eyes flew open. 

"Wha-" 

"Shh. Shh shh. It's just me. Quiet." 

"Mal!" Inara protested, trying to stand up. Mal put his hands firmly on her shoulders and pushed her back down. 

"Don't be dumb." His voice grew more gentle. "Just sit." Inara drew her knees to her chest protectively. Mal sighed. "Don't you ever do this for your clients?" He wet the sponge and began to gently wash her hunched back. 

"You're supposed to knock." Inara's voice was muffled, her head hidden in her knees. 

"I'm manly and impulsive. Now shut up." 

Flowers in the bath, thought Mal, and incense. Such froufera. And it didn't seem to be helping her relax at all. The sponge, though, that was a good invention. It was neutral territory. He could stroke her back with it - her long, graceful back - but still keep distance. He wasn't touching her if he was using a sponge. It was still above-board. Friendly-like. Right. 

But her shoulders were loosening. And the muscles in her neck -- no, they were still -- that gorram asshole, thought Mal furiously. 

"What?" asked Inara, dreamily. 

"Your neck is tense," said Mal, dropping the sponge into the bath, and reaching with his thumbs to smooth the flowing line of muscle between her nape and shoulders. Inara's breath caught. 

"Mal -" it was a whisper, almost a sigh. 

Friendly-like, Mal thought desparately. That's all. I'm just comforting a girl who needs... who ... His breath wouldn't come easily. Inara's skin was silky-smooth with water and soapsand, and her neck was so delicate. Curling tendrils of dark hair floated from the knot twisted on top of her head. He dropped his hands to her shoulders, using his thumbs to gently knead the space between the blades. 

"Oh..." Inara's knees dropped down and she stretched forward a little, giving Mal more room to work. 

Just a back massage, thought Mal, keeping his eyes frantically glued to her shoulders. Just a back -- Wait. Is she ... purring? 

And then the ship shuddered, and the tub tilted, and Inara fell backwards, hard, onto Mal. And so did the bathwater. 

"Cap, could you come up here, please?" Wash's voice crackled out over the speaker. "We're in a debris field that wasn't part of the plans for this pleasure tour." 

Inara scrambled up and hastily pulled on a robe. 

"Um. Right." Mal was a little stunned. Inara falling against him like that - oh - 

"Cap'n?" 

Mal jumped up authoritatively, walked over to the speaker and hit a button. "Be right there." He looked at Inara, who avoided his eyes. She was holding her robe closed around her neck. It wasn't helping things, since it was pale silk and clinging to her wet skin, and he could tell she knew it. The tension in her shoulders was back. "I'm going to -" 

"Right." 

"You're?" 

"I'm - you should go." 

"Right." And Mal walked to the door. 

"Knock next time," Inara blurted to his back. Mal paused but kept walking. If he had turned around, he would have seen her redden. 

* * *

The debris field was nothing. Big, but nothing. 

"Leftover junk from asteroid mining," said Kaylee authoritatively, peering out the bridge window. "See the claw marks on that hunk? Comes from the grip arm of a Canary-class work ship. You can tell by the scratch pattern." 

"Anything here for us?" Mal asked, looking at the shards spinning lazily around them. 

"Nope," Kaylee said, scrutinizing the floating mess. "Didn't leave no equipment." 

"Just a lot of fancy piloting," Wash interjected, "If we stick to that plan of ours." 

"Take us 'round it, but stay with the original course as much as you can," Mal instructed. "And let me know if any gold glistens." 

"Why're you wet, Cap?" asked Kaylee curiously, turning from the window. 

Mal looked down - his lap was sopping. 

"Spilled some soup. Had to rinse it off. Call me if anything else exciting happens." His ears burning, Mal started to walk off. 

"Define exciting," called Wash. 

"Liable to help us fill our bellies and put shirts on our backs," said Mal, ducking past the door and closing it behind him. 

Kaylee grinned at Wash. "Dry shirts." 

* * *

In her shuttle, Inara locked the door. She took off the robe and hung it to dry over a chair. The water spilled on the floor had already begun to evaporate into the bone-dry air, eventually destined for a filter that would suck all moisture back out, process it, and cycle it back into distributing centre next to the engine room. 

Walking naked across the floor, she righted the tub, then paused in front of a tapestry that covered a full-length mirror. Pulling it back, Inara viewed silently what she had barely managed to keep Mal from seeing - bruises glowing faintly purple on her ribcage and hips, score marks on her thighs. She looked at herself coolly, then took a small screw-top cylinder from a nearby table. Not much left, Inara noted, opening it. She walked over to her computer display, opened a shopping list and put a checkmark next to "Contusion Healing Accelerant." 

The flute music died away. 

* * *

Night. Not really night, 'course, since the black is its name. But close enough. Mal had just traded places on the bridge with Zoe, and was heading back down to his bunk. The ship was silent. He padded down the three steps to the crew cabins, pivoting automatically to avoid the sharp edge of a sheet metal corner, ducking under a girder. They'd been keeping power use at a minimum to get to Connaught Abbey, so the corridors were dark. Pushing his door open, Mal turned to take the ladder down... and stopped. A sound lingered - music - someone was singing. A woman was singing. It was coming from Kaylee's room. Mal rolled his eyes and walked over to push the door open - but when he touched the panel, it was already moving; the singing had stopped; someone was climbing out. 

"Inara." 

"Hello Mal," Inara replied, all cool deference. 

"You were singing," Mal said, and then felt like hitting himself. 

"Kaylee wanted to hear what they were playing in the bars on Caladan." Inara's posture was regal again, but the light in the corridors was too dim for him to read the look in her eyes. She was wearing her most demure outfit, he noted - a red cheongsam. It left only her forearms bare, but clung to her hips like it was painted - 

Wait a minute, thought Mal. "You were in bars?" 

Inara cursed inwardly. "I go where I please." 

"You don't go to bars." 

"I've gone to bars with the crew," Inara pointed out. 

"You don't go to bars when you're working," Mal countered. "You told me so." 

"I took some time off. I'm going to bed, Mal. Good night." 

Mal caught her arm as she tried to breeze past. Inara gasped as his fingers hit bruises on the soft inside flesh. 

"Somethin' happened, didn't it?" 

Inara wouldn't look at him. "Let me go, Mal." 

Mal moved to cage her against the wall, carefully letting go of her arm but blocking her from leaving. "Tell me what happened, Inara, and I swear I'll make him pay." 

Inara looked up. "Oh, he paid, Mal. I took care of that." Inara smiled bitterly. "That was the first thing we learned -- those who hire you always pay." 

And then, inexplicably, and to her horror, Inara started to cry. 

Mal, being a man, took a step back. "Now ... hey ... 'Nara -" but she had already bolted past him. 

"Go after her!" 

"What?" Mal spun, startled, to see Kaylee's tousled head peering out of the entrance to her bunk. 

"Don't be an idiot, Cap'n. Go after 'Nara." Kaylee rolled her eyes. "C'mon! Scoot!" 

"My ship!" Mal was already feeling foolish. "Don't tell me what to-" Kaylee shook her head and went inside her bunk, closing the door. 

Cursing, Mal started down the corridor towards Inara's shuttle. 

* * *

"Ridiculous," fumed Inara, stalking the catwalk above the cargo hold and yanking out the lacquered sticks holding her hair high on her head. "I don't cry. I never cry. I don't cry in front of anyone. In front of Mal. My landlord. Ever. Never. Again. I'm fine. I'm just fine." She yanked open the door to the shuttle and stomped inside. Walking over to the table with her ointments and perfumes, she lit a candle, and then studied herself in the mirror, carefully wiping the tears from her face. "I'm perfectly fine," she said outloud again, then closed her eyes and repeated it softly. "Perfectly fine." 

"Right then," Mal said. Inara opened her eyes, startled. He was standing behind her, gazing at her in the mirror. "You're perfectly fine." 

"Mal!" said Inara, the beginnings of vexation in her voice. She spun to face him... but he had taken a step forward at the same time, and the combination ended with them standing close. Too close, thought Inara, suddenly dizzy. Mal looked down - Inara's soft breasts were pressed against his chest. 

This is my home, thought Inara, irrationally. I am not stepping back. 

"Thought you could use this," Mal said nonchalantly, holding up a bottle of sake. "And just 'cause you're a lady..." His other hand came up, cupping two earthenware mugs. "Shall I pour?" He stepped over to the couch. 

"Yes. Please. Thank you." Inara could feel her face flush. More than that - her body tingled where it had pressed against his. He smelled ... he smelled like clean earth, Inara thought, part of her still able to catalogue precisely. And cotton shirts and rain and leather and himself. 

"There's yours." Mal held up one mug out of her reach. He was sitting down. She'd have to come to him, he thought, his eyes slightly glinting. 

"Right," said Inara, not moving. Mal raised an eyebrow. Inara sighed. "Thank you." With all the dignity she could muster, she walked to the couch and sank down beside him. "Where'd this come from, anyway?" 

"Badger," Mal grinned. "He gets the good stuff." 

"To go with his hat," Inara smiled. 

"Can't drink crap when you're dressed fine. 'Course, we usually have to make do. The preacher promised to bring ale-making supplies back with him from Connaught Abbey." What am I doing, thought Mal. Beer brewing. That's exactly what I'm here to talk about. 

"Can't wait," Inara said, wryly. 

They both sipped their sake. And again. 

"Look-" they said it and turned to each other simultaneously. 

"We can't-" Mal started. "My job is too-" Inara rushed. And then Mal noticed Inara still had a tear on her cheek. 

"You missed one," he said, reaching up with his thumb to brush it off. Unthinking, Inara leaned into his touch. And then they both froze, Mal's hand on the curve of her jaw. Inara's breath caught. Surely he'd move it away - surely, like last time, one of them would say something stupid and it would be ov- 

But Mal's lips were suddenly on hers, and the thought was completely lost. They sank into it, into each other. Inara felt heat pool between her thighs, heard moaning and realized it was coming from her. 

"This is complicated," she breathed. 

"No," Mal said, "it really isn't." 

* * *

Hunger, thought Inara distantly, lying alone in bed afterwards, that was the difference. Her clients desired her, sure, but their anticipation had barely built by the time she arrived. She did her best, of course, to draw it out, to create a yearning almost painful, but then it was satisfied. It ended. Being well-trained, not to mention a good business woman, Inara always contrived a sense of something missing as an exit note. She, and her bank account, needed them to call her back. But it was artifical. Once business was conducted, it was over. But Mal... 

Sweet Jesus. 

The candles she had lit before Mal entered the shuttle finally guttered out. Inara closed her eyes. Women, she thought drowsily, are supposed to gain energy from sex... 

And then she fell asleep. 

* * *

Lying alone in his bunk, Mal stared, stunned, into the dark. He hadn't wanted to leave her. Those bruises - how could anyone \- When it was finally over, when they had fallen back, spent, he was seized by the need to stay, to watch over her. To make sure she slept safe, to make sure she was always safe, to make sure that no-one could ever get near her with any intention other than the most courteous, non-violent, asexual respect. 

But that was folly. All of it was folly. They had a business arrangement, and she was a whore, and this was a bad, bad idea. And so he'd kissed her again, and then hastily donned his clothes and left without speaking. 

And now he couldn't sleep.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Title:   **Complicated (why's it have to be so)**   
Author:   **merrily**   
Details:   **Standalone**  |  **PG-13**  |  **het**  |  **15k**  |  **03/09/06**   
Characters:  Malcolm, Inara   
Pairings:  Mal/Inara   
Summary:  Just a back massage, thought Mal, keeping his eyes frantically glued to her shoulders. Just a back -- Wait. Is she . purring?   
Notes:  Mal & Inara, first time.   
I don't usually write canon pairings, but I was dared.   
  



End file.
